


the winds of change are blowing wild and free

by CarbonFootprint



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbonFootprint/pseuds/CarbonFootprint
Summary: "It was raining the day of Mikoto’s funeral.Dark storm clouds had sat heavy and impending on the horizon for hours that morning, finally breaking open as loved ones trudged out to the cherry blossom orchards for the darkest day since the end of the war.Nohr and Hoshido were no longer fighting. An invisible enemy had been disposed, but there were still losses on both sides: the violent murder of a serene Queen and sad demise of a broken King."Written for the Struck True Takumi zine!





	the winds of change are blowing wild and free

**Author's Note:**

> I realized I never posted my zine fic from the Struck True zine! I received the zine in the mail the other day and figured I should probably post this for anyone who didn't get a chance to buy it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was raining the day of Mikoto’s funeral.

Dark storm clouds had sat heavy and impending on the horizon for hours that morning, finally breaking open as loved ones trudged out to the cherry blossom orchards for the darkest day since the end of the war.

Nohr and Hoshido were no longer fighting. An invisible enemy had been disposed, but there were still losses on both sides: the violent murder of a serene Queen and sad demise of a broken King.

Elation had filled both kingdoms when the war had ended, but it seemed as if the entire world was on hold for the date Ryoma had set in his first council meeting as King of Hoshido.

Takumi had stared at the black robes set out for him for what felt like hours before finally getting dressed that morning, his hands trembling at some points as he arranged the cloth in the neatest way he could. He hadn’t worn black since Father had died, and he had been nearly too young to remember the occasion very well.

He remembered mother’s hand in his own, cool fingers brushing through his hair, whispered words that death wasn’t the end.

There was no consolation now. Mother was gone.

There hadn’t been much left to bury after the explosion in the square that had seen Mikoto’s body fall and Corrin’s transform into a dragon, but the urn that would have contained her ashes was still present if only for show. It was beautifully crafted, made from deep, dark wood, simple and elegant, much like the fallen Queen.

Ryoma, Hinoka, and Sakura were dressed in similar attire to his own, black on black on black. Everything was dark. The sky was as grey and sad as his own heart felt, and when the clouds broke up and spilled cool rain onto his skin, it felt like the heavens were crying too.

Takumi kept his sobs at bay as a priest spoke to the small group gathered in the sakura glade; only Mikoto’s children, Corrin included, Azura, her retainers, and her closest friends and advisers had been invited to the affair, but all of Hoshido was mourning at their backs.

Sakura was on his left, her hand clasping his own as she cried into his sleeve, quiet sniffling sounds leaving her chest as prayers of peace left the priest’s lips. Hinoka was at his right, her usually stoic form quaking with pent up emotion. He reached out and touched her hand and she took it up far more quickly than he had expected.

The rain soaked his hair and his robes. It streamed down his face, both disguising and mixing with his tears. All that was left of Mother was a shrine engraved with her name and the slowly fading memories in his mind.

The grey stone of the shrine was darkened by the rain, and wilted cherry blossom petals were sodden under his feet.

The world was on hold and the Earth was crying, and it seemed there was no solace in sight.

* * *

 

Things got a bit better in the days after the funeral, but it wasn’t like the hurt had faded in it’s entirety. Seeing Mother in the hidden kingdom and having to see her die yet again had opened wounds Takumi thought were healing. The funeral didn’t offer the closure he had hoped for. If anything, it just made the emotions more raw than before, more painful than ever.

It had always been hard for him to let go. Change was hard, the future was terrifying, and maybe that was why he clung to Mother’s memory.

He found himself at Mother’s grave usually once a day, kneeling in the grass in front of the cold stone. Sometimes he didn’t even speak, sitting with his eyes closed simply trying to grasp at whatever last threads of her spirit he could find in the air around the place. There was nothing though; he knew there would never be anything to find there.

Mother was gone and she wasn’t coming back.

Everyone else was still there though. It was a miracle that none of his siblings had perished in the war, and he was exceptionally grateful for that, but things were different now.

Ryoma was King. Hinoka was busy training Pegasus knights.

Sakura was still the same though, and he found her one day carefully carrying a basket out towards the orchards.

“Big brother!” she gasped, a smile coming to her face, “I was going to go have tea with Mother. Would you- like to come with me?” she asked shyly, looking down at her feet.

“Of course,” he agreed, holding out his hand, “Let me carry that for you.” She handed the basket over and they went off together, setting up a blanket in front of Mother’s grave. It was a warm day, as were most leading into the summer months, and the wind was blowing lightly, managing to catch the last few petals left on the branches of the cherry blossom trees.

Sakura prepared the tea for the two of them, carefully pouring it into small cups, one of which she handed to him.

“Do you come here a lot, big brother?” she asked softly as he sipped the tea in his hand and stared out past the grave towards the green hills and mountains that followed.

“Sometimes,” he shrugged, “It’s nice here.”

“Mhm, it is,” his sister sighed softly, “Mother always liked this spot...”

Takumi could remember that. He had been walking through the orchards with Mother since he was young, holding tight to her hand as he kicked through fallen leaves at the end of autumn and piles of fallen petals in spring. Mother had always laughed softly at his actions and then they had just sat in the grass and watched clouds move. That was before everything had started to slip with the impending threat of war, and it still felt like he could never gain that kind of carefreeness again.

He probably couldn’t.

There was just something about being a child, filled with innocence and clinging to the hand of the one he called Mother. As a child, it was as if Mother’s hand was the only thing that kept him from running off into the trees, losing himself in the wind and clouds and endless glades. Everything was possible, and he had invented in his mind that the forests just went on forever, that Hoshido went on forever, that he himself could go on forever.

Now he knew where the trees stopped, and he knew everything had an end, even Mother, even his own life. The only way to reach the sky was by Pegasus, and the only way to touch the clouds was during rain, and that still wasn’t as satisfying as a childhood dream.

“Do you think Mother is watching us?” Sakura asked softly, her voice quiet and holding a tiny tremor of hope, but it could easily be mistaken for fear; fear that Mother was truly gone this time.

“I think she is,” Takumi breathed out, letting the words leave his lips to be pulled away by the light tug of the wind, “Even though we said farewell to her, even though we watched her go, she’s still here.”

“I- I-I want to see her again,” Sakura whispered, reaching up to swipe hurriedly at her eyes, “D-does that make me selfish, big brother?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and imploring, and he figured deep down somewhere he felt the same.

“We will,” he nodded, “But not for a very long time,” he smiled softly, reaching to take her hand, “Mother wouldn’t want to see us too soon anyway. That would mean she didn’t do her job right, and you and I both know she did.”

Sakura seemed satisfied with that, and once the tea was gone they quietly packed up and headed back to the castle.

But he kept going back anyway.

Not every day, but several times a week. When he woke in the middle of the night, shaking and scared, he could find his way there without even lantern light to guide him. His feet would grow wet with the dew gathering on the blades of grass, and he knew if he was going to continue the trend he would need to put on shoes in the wintertime, but that was too far off.

He let himself live in the present, sitting in the grass in from of Mother’s stone, whispering out his fears from the past and his doubts for the future.

Maybe she was listening, but maybe she wasn’t. Either way, he liked to imagine that the wind tugging gently at his hair and kissing at his cheeks when he walked was Mother, her cool fingers and sweet lips on his skin. In time, the pain would go away, but the loss would never fade from his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [@leokuumi](http://www.twitter.com/leokuumi)  
> Tumblr: [@carbonbop](http://www.carbonbop.tumblr.com)


End file.
